Fire and Shadows
by Owlyn
Summary: Set after Heirophant Sara meets the force responsible for the Wielder's ultimate betyral. please r/r, i need feedback!
1. Fire

Fire and Shadows by Owlyn  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own witchblade or any of its wonderful characters, only the idea I've placed them in.  
  
Feedback: Definitely! Reviews are my cure for writer's block. Also if u have any suggestions I'd love to hear them.(if they end up in print u will be given full credit)  
  
Key for understanding my fanfic symbols * = flash back, thoughts don't have any symbols because it interrupts the flow of the story.(sry if that is inconvienent)  
  
  
  
"Smack!" Sara's fist met the blood red punching bag in a whirl of barely contained fury. Sweat dripped into her eyes; carelessly she swiped a glove across her face and steadied herself against the bag. It was a testament to the exhaustion two hours of beating the hell out of an inadiment object brings that she could no longer stand up straight. Unfortunately, the session had done nothing to dispel her pent up rage and infuriating feelings of helplessness. Both were still energetically taunting her with flashes of last night's events.  
  
  
  
* A man who was, yet wasn't her father approached from the corner of the late Mr. Iron's contemporary/medieval residence. With horror and disgust fighting for dominance on her face she could only look on as cherished childhood memories were destroyed. This vacant stranger with his twisted plans could not be the same beloved father who took her to park on Sundays. Then, next thing she knew the stranger she refused to acknowledge as her father had his arms around her neck. Clearly she wouldn't be around muck longer to contemplate the mystery of his resurrection if she didn't fight back. "Thunk!" in her battle-fogged mind she dimly registered that with her hit the face had changed.she was once again staring into Kenneth Iron's glacier cold eyes. She was beginning to understand that in the Witchblade's world there were no rules and death was merely an inconvience to those wishing to kill her. In her peripheral vision she noticed a figure that reeked of evil. " As if it's volcanic eyes weren't obvious enough", she had time to think sarcastically before Irons attacked. *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jerked out of her reverie by the fact that those same eyes were facing her right now she instinctively hit. "Ouch! Dammit, what was that?!" I guess even the witchblade can't protect you from Hell's prying eyes. If someone had told me a week ago that I would meet the Devil I would have collapsed laughing and asked if they thought I was a bad person or something. What a strange burn too. It almost looks like miniature flames. The distinctive click of a door opening made her look up from examining her scorched knuckles.  
  
"Pez, are you ok? I heard a crash and thought that psycho V was back." Danny spoke while slowly replacing his gun.  
  
"What, oh I'm fine."  
  
"Damn girl, you might be fine but that punching bag sure ain't." Danny laughed somewhat unnerved. He knew Sara was stronger than she looked, but strong enough to break a sturdy iron chain? That's my partner: full of surprises.  
  
In the shadows another man pondered that same question. Dressed all in black only the luminous red eyes had noticed him, that and the witchblade. At the moment it was pulsating a strange green. Lady Sara why will you not believe in the witchblade? It is trying to warn you, for your assumptions are only partially correct. The Devil is not the only or the most powerful evil that wants you dead. You have fought him since his birth, for that was why the witchblade, you were created. You have killed him before, when he was still mortal enough to die; but to conquer him, that can only be done if you accept our combined destinies.  
  
  
  
"How the hell did it get all the way over there? No wonder I feel more relaxed." She quipped. I wonder how long the interrogation will last this time? He better make it brief 'cause I just heard movement in that corner. My favorite stalker wait, I mean my only stalker. Great, now I'm reduced to arguing with myself!  
  
"I don't know Pez, might want to work on that anger management a little. See you tomorrow." Danny concluded. Her mind is obviously on something else or someone else from the way she's almost smiling. I'll just have to get the truth out of her tomorrow morning when she's still half asleep. In record time he was out of the dungeon of a gym and striding purposefully down the hall.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"He's gone, you can come out now." Sara said impatiently.  
  
"Sara, you have been branded by an evil far older and more powerful than that which you recently battled." Ian answered, his gaze flicking quickly to the blemish on her otherwise pristine skin then back to her emerald eyes. Her skin always seems to glow with an inner light, even when irritated and tired she still has an otherworldly beauty. With great reluctance he drew his mind back to the matter at hand, he was not here to admire her but to warn her.  
  
"Come on, cut the crap. What's going on, suddenly two glowing eyes are adorning my punching bag and next thing I know this is on my hand!" She gestured at the sick, but beautiful design with the impatience born out of fatigue.  
  
"Sara you must concentrate on listening instead of sparring for once. The witchblade is trying to warn you, even though he has been responsible for it's ultimate betrayals. It was through him that the witchblade abandoned Joan of Arc. For He stole what the witchblade needs to survive: her, your hope. It is up to you to defeat him once and for all in this lifetime. You may not get another chance." His normally warm hazel eyes now darkening with urgency and worry. She has to understand the power of this new threat, this old evil. How can she accept our destiny when she won't even listen to me?  
  
"Whoa, rewind, who's out to kill me now? Is Irons planning on resurrecting himself or will my supposed dead father make another appearance? Or better yet is it the devil again, 'cause I really feel like kicking his ass." Sara adopted her old mocking tone, but in truth he was starting to freak her out a little. All that stuff about the witchblade betraying Joan really hit home.  
  
  
  
For lack of a better method of communicating his urgency he reached out and captured the hand bearing both the burn and the witchblade. Gently he traced the outlines of the small eternal flames; at least they would remain with her for all of this lifetime. Emboldened by her startled intake of breath he considered confessing his feelings, but aborted the words before they were ever spoken: now was neither the time nor the place.  
  
"Lady Sara you must understand, to speak his name is to summon him. He cloaks himself in shadow and only the glow of his yellow eyes under the full moon reveals him. He hears and sees everything."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Damn, I wish he would stop that. It's making me dizzy with the added bonus of being extremely distracting and right now I need to concentrate on remaining upright. I must be really beat if he's having this kind of effect on me. Come on Pezzini get a hold of yourself, this is Nottingham remember. It had been a long day and she was tired of all the games, usually she played along but right now she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. Breathing deeply twice Sara managed to make a suitably biting response.  
  
"So I can just yell out 'hey dude stop playing hide and seek' and he'll appear?"  
  
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized that that had been a really stupid thing to say. An arrow made entirely fashioned out of sapphire blue flames that hurtled toward them punctuated her realization. Attempting to track its flight she saw that Ian was its target. It flew faster than any bullet Sara had ever seen and would be deadlier. Before her mind could rationalize what she was about to do Sara's reflexes took control. Trusting to the witchblade for protection in the form of full body armor she threw self into its path.  
  
When the flaming arrow was seconds away from her Sara found herself incased in thick, iron armor from head to toe. Then time stopped and the unthinkable happened. With an agonizing slowness armor segments slid back down her body and were swallowed by the churning red stone that formed the witchblade's eye.  
  
The impact was excruciating, like hot needles combined with ice. Almost instantaneously she was transported into a waking vision of Joan of Arc burning at the stake. The witchblade had resumed enough control of itself in order to distance Sara from the pain.  
  
  
  
Ian watched in horror as the arrow entered the chest of his beloved. With the knowledge that comes of being connected to the Blade for centuries he felt it's struggle. Obviously He had managed to check its desire to protect the Wielder. The arrow slowly burnt itself out inside of her until only a few embers remained. Before she could collapse to the floor in a crumpled heap he easily caught her lithe form.  
  
Luckily for Sara the Blade was rallying and as a conciliatory gesture it placed her in a vision. This vision, he could sense, was meant to last an hour. By then the pain would have subsided from unbearable to simply agonizing. Fighting through his internal fog was another knowledge. The knowledge that Sara had, without thinking, literally thrown herself in the path of death, his death. With him out of the way He would have been able to dominate and kill Sara in a matter of days. All of these realizations made him light headed and therefore it took some moments for him to realize that a police gym was the worst place to be right now. Still holding Sara in his arms he carefully examined the shadows, only to catch a fleeting glance of a smoky tendril oozing out through a crack in a nearby brick wall. Reverently he proceeded to gently lift Sara up and carry her out the door.  
  
Once outside Ian faced a dilemma, where to take Sara. He knew of no hospital on Earth that could treat his lady's burns. Why didn't I drive to the station for once! Maybe a taxi? No, the driver would notice and ask inconvenient questions. Thank God Sara is light, 'cause it looks like I'm gonna be carrying her eight blocks. Oh, Sara I wish I could take away some of your pain.  
  
Halfway to her apartment she started to shiver. When he finally gave into the need to remove his glove to feel her forehead she had a high fever. Gingerly he brushed her lustrous chestnut hair out of her face. While doing that his eyes were reluctantly drawn to the gash on her chest near the base of her neck. It was a bloody hole, about four inches long he estimated. The edges of the fabric nearest to it were singed the black of charcoal. At last he reached her apartment and searched through her coat for the keys. In the top pocket he found them and opened the door.  
  
Inside everything was serene and quiet, an ironic contrast with the inhabitant's personality. Upon reaching the middle of the apartment he settled his burden comfortably, or as comfortably as possible when you're recovering from severe burns, on the couch.  
  
"No don't leave me! Not now, I need you!" Sara cried deep in a vision of horrors past. Ian was unsure if she was talking about him or the witchblade, but soothed her nonetheless.  
  
"Sara, I'm right here. Only say the word and we could be inseparatible." A feeling of intense déjà vu overcame him as he remembered another time when he had made a similar offer.  
  
Fighting her way out of the vision Sara won the battle for a brief moment and replied, "Yes. I would like that very much, Ian." Before once again returning to being burned at the stake, only this time she felt a sense of calm as Ian took her in his arms. 


	2. Worthy

As he inhaled her delicate fragrance, a combination of honey and almonds, he realized that something was wrong. Her posture had relaxed which should mean that her body was riding out the pain but her pulse had become almost nonexistent.  
  
As intoxicating as she is I'll soon be holding a corpse if I don't tend to this burn. I must force her reply out of my mind. Enough~ she's wounded and delirious she probably didn't even hear or understand what you said.  
  
Ian shook his head back and forth, as if that motion could sweep the cobwebs of clinging thoughts aside. Cautiously he set Sara back down onto the couch, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace she had finally achieved. These actions completed he ran quickly to her bathroom, hoping that she kept some kind of first aid kit for emergencies. Knowing that every second he was away she might loose her tenuous hold on life he quickly scrabbled through her drawers. Hopefully she will excuse the mess if she wakes up. No I can't think that way, not if but when. The witchblade must not let her die!  
  
Close to panic he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when his fingers felt the smooth plastic contours of the box. For once he was happy to see the glaring red symbol that renewed his hope. Running back to the couch he was at a loss for how to proceed. Her shirt has to be removed if I am to clean the wound. I can hardly wake her and ask for permission.I'll just have to take it off there's, no way around it and if she survives I'll gladly endure her anger at the trespass.  
  
A blush blooming in his cheeks he reached for a pair of scissors and began the tricky procedure of cutting off Sara's shirt. Tricky only because his hands were shaking, spying on her and seeing her without clothes was one thing but taking them off yourself, that was another. With much trepidation he peeled back the garment to expose the jagged hole complete with burnt edges and her Victoria Secret bra, among other things. It was black with lace edging he reluctantly noticed. Grabbing the bottle of alcohol he began to clean the wound free of dried blood and burnt fabric. He could remove bullets in a snap, but third degree burns made by supernatural weapons had not been included in his training.  
  
* It was hot and dry. So dry it had to be the desert Sara thought while she picked at the sheer material she was clothed in. Dimly she realized that the witchblade had taken her somewhere else, the analogy of being burned alive no longer applying to her current state. Slowly other senses made their presence known as the gentle breeze carried the scents of the Nile to her, lotuses and marsh water. Looking at her wrist the eye of the witchblade glowed an emerald green before it sucked her free will into the swirling vortex of the stone! "My power was weakening and you have out lived your usefulness." Echoed a commanding voice composed of blood and light. At the same moment a shadow detached itself from the corner of the chamber. "Don't worry my dear Cleopatra, or what ever name you're going by this incarnation, the witchblade hasn't deserted you I have. Our alliance no longer holds, by dawn tomorrow the Romans will march on your palace and the shadows will not protect you." With a last parting cackle the shadow slithered out of the door. To her amazement a snake crawled out of the witchblade. To her horror it was an Asp, while it oozed up her arm and stopped at her chest she realized that she was no longer afraid. Then the pain came, total mind-numbing flames that started in her chest at the base of her neck. Before it got worse the witchblade mercifully ended her life, for now. *  
  
"Sara NO! Don't give up! The witchblade still needs you, here in this life." Ian screamed as he caught a brief flash of the vision. Just as quickly he was shown another vision, a vision that could save her. Carefully he held her wrist with the witchblade over his heart and prayed that it would spare her. Blue and white sparks fought for dominance at the corners of his eyesight. He felt rather than saw the Blade burrow into his soul, but there was no pain for he was protected. His devotion and love towards the Wielder pleased the Blade so it only took some of his life force and not all.  
  
"You please me Knight so I will let you live, if that is your choice. The path of Death would spare you much pain. Your thoughts echo loudly, so be it. I'll leave you just enough of your inner core to tend to my wielder and a gift." The voice composed of light and blood faded from his mind as the metal tendrils retracted from his heart.  
  
Ian watched in awe as his ring filled with light and the metal bled. The metal bled a single white and dusk blue tear that condensed into two interconnected circles. 


	3. Destiny

Chapter 3  
  
His head felt very heavy, far too heavy to hold up. With Sara's hand still clasped to his chest he slid back into the cushions and fell asleep. While he slept his ring glowed a brilliant blue and sent tentacles of light racing into the apartment's corners. Once the light contacted every corner it climbed up the walls. As it flooded the ceiling an inky shadow screamed and plummeted to the floor where it sulkily slid under the door and back to its master. The Wielder and her knight, two sides of the same coin, slept on unaware of the intruder who had just fled.  
  
*24 hours later*  
  
Sara woke groggily to blue light covering her walls. That's one hell of a new paint job, my rent better not go up because of this or I'll be really pissed of. As soon as her eyes were fully open it had vanished leaving only stark white walls behind. Sighing she shook her head and attempted to get up.  
  
"Ouch! You're cutting off my circulation." Sara muttered grumpily as Nottingham refused to let go of her hand. Somehow she wasn't surprised to find him asleep on her couch. What did surprise her was finding her shirt cut in half and a long, jagged scar on her chest. Thank God I wore one of my nice bras yesterday or was it the day before? I must be loosing it if I can't even remember what day it is. Wait, scar, there used to be a big jagged hole with burnt edges on my chest. Glancing admirably at Ian she wondered just what he had had to do to save her life. The cop in her hoped that it hadn't been illegal while the Wielder in her hoped he hadn't had to sell his soul or something. Her mind and body were still too tired to wage a successful internal argument so she gave up and instead committed herself to a more serene activity: watching Ian sleep. Risking waking him up she used her other hand to brush a strand of hair out of his face, after nearly being killed by a flaming arrow she figured life was too short to continue fighting her attraction to him. Suddenly his eyes opened as if he could sense her thoughtful gaze.  
  
"Sara, you're awake. What time is it, I feel like I've been asleep for years." Ian commented while awkwardly moving himself to a sitting position.  
  
"Got me. What happened yesterday anyway? I mean I thought I was doomed to relieve past Wielder's downfalls forever." She quipped while giving him a serious look that practically screamed you better not have done anything stupid to save my life.  
  
"No Sara, it was the witchblade that saved your life; I was merely the vessel for its power." "Only?" Sara asked with a grin. "Well vessel or not I'm very grateful. But what did you have to do?"  
  
" All you need to know is that now we are truly flesh and blood. The witchblade saw fit to secure my status as your sworn knight by giving me this." He gestured at the ring which now bore two pale blue interlocked circles.  
  
"Strange, when I first woke up it seemed like the walls were covered in a sparkly blue 'paint'. Maybe it somehow protects us from the shadows. During my imprisonment in the visions I learned about Him."  
  
"I know, I was there too. The witchblade has expanded my awareness and allows me to experience some of what you are shown."  
  
"It showed me how to defeat him."  
  
"That I already knew."  
  
"Everyone I've ever gotten close to gets killed! Don't you understand? I couldn't go on if anything happened to you. That's what I realized when I saw that arrow." She stopped unable to contain the tears that flowed down her cheeks, thoroughly annoyed that the stress had finally caught up to her.  
  
Carefully taking her into his arms Ian replied "That's the function of my ring, to protect us. I love you Sara, that's all we need to survive. Take a chance on us." Running out of successful arguments he cupped her face in his hands and brushed the diamond like tears of her cheek with his thumb. Slowly he closed the gap between them and looked expectantly into her eyes as if waiting for a cue. Seeing this Sara realized that he had never kissed a woman before. Banishing her fears and doubts she slowly covered his lips with hers and sealed their destiny.  
  
The kiss was more intoxicating than he had imagined and dreamt it would be. Even the visions of past lives could not compare to the passions she ignited in this life.  
  
Far away in the shadows of Hell He raged and screamed his fury at all of his servants for allowing the Wielder and her knight's souls to be pledged to each other for eternity. This was unexpected and it angered Him that the infuriating Kenneth Irons had been right. Let them enjoy their few moments together, they will not last as long as their pledge implies. Fortunately the spy that had been banished from her apartment had not yet returned or would have been even more pissed off. Bringing his devious planning away from the lovers he began preparation for His ultimate control of the witchblade. A plan that included another of the Wielders bloodline. 


	4. Schemes

It was a busy morning at Boucher Agency. The fall line had to be photographed by the end of summer or they would be woefully behind schedule. Karen's tired eyes were beginning to have a sun spot type of reaction to the many flashes going off at once. I'm going to be blind by the time I'm thirty if I don't find a new line of work and soon. That Dominiqe woman is getting on my nerves. Hell I'd settle for a different agency at this point, one that gives us lunch breaks. At least there's only another nine hours to go until I can retire to my empty apartment, joy. My mother always used to say that sarcasm shows in a picture so I will think happy thoughts. Ok, I hope my two timing ex rots in hell that happy enough?  
  
While Karen was posing for the camera an ink colored vein of shadow hugged the perimeter of the room and slipped under the door into the dressing room. If it had eyes it would have blinked in the harsh overhead lights the banished all normal shadows from the room. Instead it continued on its sinuous way towards the shelves where personal effects were stored. Since it had been created out of His blood the shadow was literate and only had to read the initials on the side of one purse to know where to hide.  
  
Meanwhile in Hell Irons and the Devil were having a chat.  
  
"Yes, but how do you plan on getting rid of Him once Ms. Pezzini is out of the way?" questioned a miffed Irons. While finding the company more to his taste in Hell the luxuries were something to be desired. The only conclusion that he could come to was that the cheap suits lining his decidedly shabby closet were part of his 'punishment'.  
  
The man sitting across from him in a chair carved from ice with imprisoned fire within was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Irons being sent to Hell was part of his punishment. The man did nothing but talk but that at least meant he wasn't scheming. Directly following any long periods of silence was an attempt to possess someone or acquire news of Sara Pezzini. If it hadn't gone against his every fiber of being he would have told, no forced, Nottingham to destroy that blasted hand. It was his only toehold in the realm of the living, and the reason dear Kenneth was so bothersome. "Please let eternity be over soon", he prayed knowing without a doubt that God was to busy laughing to hear let alone answer.  
  
Irritably Kenneth snapped his fingers in front of the Devils face, he would not tolerate any one daydreaming while he was talking even if said person could set him on fire with a word.  
  
"Patience, Kenny, is indeed a virtue you should cultivate if you are going to be successful in your attempt at seizing the witchblade let alone getting out of here. Don't look so innocent I know all about your little escapades on Earth. Remember, for now I will support you in your cause but I will be perfectly happy to wait until the next wielder. After all we have time on our side, wouldn't you say." the Devil smiled pleased that he had struck a nerve with his last comment. It was a known fact that Kenny thought he was getting out and soon. It was hard for him to keep his face blank when idiot called him 'Kenny'. The nickname rankled to say the least. "I have been patient my lord, but you have yet to answer my question." He replied in his oiliest tone.  
  
"Only the wielder can destroy him or I should say a wielder. She will eventually realize that He is controlling her so she will naturally want revenge, playing right into our hands. If she succeeds I will honor our deal. Only if he has been completely destroyed, you know how much I hate rivals." Let him think on that piece of information if he fancies acquiring my job.  
  
"What about the girl? Will she live through the ordeal?"  
  
"Certainly not, without the support of her knight, who serves only the true wielder, she will die and the witchblade will pass into obscurity until the bloodline regains its strength. This I have already seen." He doesn't need to know that the witchblade killed the seer who foretold that, or that she died before finishing the prophecy.  
  
Hidden deep in the gloomy shadows cast by Hell's many flames He listened and smirked fighting the urge to laugh. Those fools dare to think that some chick with a bracelet can destroy me, the one who tricked the Devil himself into banishment from Earth. Ha, let them dream. What these smug idiots don't know is that I control the witchblade itself.  
  
Karen's apartment 10 o'clock that night  
  
Tired and sore from wearing unnaturally high heels and corsets (the newest thing for fall), Karen wearily made her way up the numerous stairs to her apartment. Fumbling for the key buried at the bottom of her cavernous Gucci purse the shadow barely escaped her questing hand. Finally her fingers grasped the metal key and opened the door. Inside everything was quiet, not even the soothing beep of her house alarm could be heard. Cautiously she closed the door behind her and turned to see a nightmare step out of the shadow drenched corner.  
  
"So nice to meet face to face at last Ms. Bronte. I knew your grandmother well, you could say that she was like a sister to me." With those words he dropped a framed picture that he had been holding. The glass shattered with a crunching noise that made the man smile and his eyes glint yellow. "Don't you just love the noise of glass breaking? I find it very soothing after a long day at work. Don't worry I'll let you struggle for a moment before it bores me, after all we should leave something for the police to find."  
  
"What the hell do you want? Money, fame, a ransom? You won't get much none of my relatives are rich." While talking she carefully picked up a nearby face. Saying a silent one two three she hurled it at the glowing yellow eyes. Casually he caught the vase then threw it at her left shoulder. With a scream of pain she crumpled to the floor with shards of glass imbedded in her shoulder. Slowing he advanced to where she lay on the floor.  
  
"Now I'm bored so time to wrap things up, plus I have an urgent meeting with the Devil in an hour and I don't want to keep him waiting."  
  
One foot in front of her he stopped walking and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. In horror she could do nothing but watch as two vines of shadow shot out of his upraised palm and slithered up her body and into her eyes. Gasping with the effort He forced the vines to burrow deeper, into her brain where they then could devour her free will. 


	5. Yellow Tape

*1 hour later*  
  
Still exhausted from their brush with death the Wielder and her knight had moved only once the entire day after initially waking up: falling back asleep on the couch that afternoon Sara had, because of a habit formed by sleeping alone, thrashed wildly and fallen off said couch. Her muttered exclamation of "Oh, shit!" had woken Ian. Gently he lifted her up and deposited her onto the bed. Once he had crawled in beside her and carefully put his arms around her shoulders he promptly fell asleep. Their much needed rest was once again disturbed, but now by one of technology's more annoying gadgets: the cell phone.  
  
Ring! Ring!  
  
While still asleep the witchblade began showing Sara a vision.  
  
*Soldiers saluted a figure with cries of 'Heil Hitler!' Fighter planes dropped bombs on London An elegant brunette stepped out of a taxi Lightening flashed, illuminating the same woman now ensconced in ice The view shifted to that of a opulent dance floor and zoomed in on one couple A SS officer and his partner, a dark haired woman with the witchblade on her wrist * Shadows began blurring the edges of the image in much the same way as time does a memory. Reluctantly Sara woke up just in time to hear another strident ring.  
  
"Stupid cell." She grumbled while tumbling out of bed and grabbing the nondescript device from the nightstand. "What the hell do you want, this better be good." Sara groaned as Jake's overly cheerful voice came through the static.  
  
"Pez, I knew I could count on you to be enthusiastic about our new case!"  
  
"Enthusiastic my ass. Now get to your point before I fall back asleep."  
  
"Come on partner it's only ten, I know 14 year olds who stay up later than you."  
  
"Oh yeah, well I doubt even you would hit on someone that underage."  
  
"She's my cousin and I'm not dating her, but that's beside the point. Come on, it's not like you have company or something."  
  
"For your information I do." With only herself to blame for adding fuel to the fire she sighed knowing that a tiring question and answer session was about to commence.  
  
"Oh, you do." Feeling like she had reached through the phone lines and hit him with a tsar he was silent. His morose silence soon gave way to curiosity (and where Sara was concerned jealousy). "So who's the lucky guy?"  
  
"You know I don't kiss and tell." she replied, effectively deflecting the question.  
  
"Point taken I surrender, for now. There's some evidence at the crime scene you'll find worth the trouble." Knowing he had nothing left to say and not wanting further tongue lashing he hung up. Good thing I didn't ask why she wasn't at the precinct yesterday.  
  
After tossing the phone into her jacket she turned around to find Ian staring at her with deep brown eyes still clouded by sleep.  
  
"Sara, if you would only let me I could rid you of this nuisance forever." Indicating by his tone that it would be a pleasure and no work at all to silence the annoying McCartey.  
  
"Thanks for the offer, but we really need to work on your problem solving skills. Sorry, I have to go check out the latest crime scene since that damn McCartey can't do anything by himself. I'll be back soon." After giving him a quick, but passionate kiss she left and hopped onto her bike.  
  
Twenty minutes later she pulled to a stop at an upscale apartment complex. After grumpily shuffling up three flights of stairs she was greeted by yellow caution tape. Stepping over the tape Sara glanced at the apartment's tastefully decorated interior noting that the only sign of a struggle was half of a glass vase lying shattered on the pale blue tiles; that and a picture once housed in a frame, now also on the floor five feet from the glass.  
  
"Detective, you made it." Gesturing at the photo Jake added, "That is what I wanted you to take a look at."  
  
Cautiously Sara pick up the picture and stared into her own emerald eyes and another woman's who looked like her daughter? Something wasn't right~she had no children. Before she could contemplate the mystery further the witchblade threw her into a vision.  
  
* Eyes glowed a feral yellow as shadows snaked out of man's hand Flashbulbs went off at a runway Two snakes hissed and fought each other During all of this a cold, cultured feminine version of Iron's voice echoed: "A murder crafted to appeal to your weakness for vulnerable young women. And a blood heir to the witchblade eliminated." *  
  
To emphasize this last comment the witchblade propelled her straight into the tiled floor. "Ow! Damnation!" she shrieked. From her new perspective a shard of glass with one finger print reflected her dilated pupils.  
  
"Hey, Pez you okay? Are sick?" a concerned McCartey asked feeling somewhat guilty for dragging her to the scene.  
  
"Better than ever, I just found us some prints." Strange, the witchblade has never done that before. It must of thought I wasn't getting the hint and decided to stop with its usual useless vague crap. Shaking her head Sara realized that she was still weak from her near fatal wound. "Jake could you give me a hand, I think I tweaked my ankle or something."  
  
Overjoyed by his luck and an excuse to touch Sara (without getting his head bitten off) he slowly helped her to her feet. Wondering how much he could get away with before she landed him with a restraining order he let his arms linger on her waist.  
  
Delicately she shrugged out of his arms, annoyed that he was coming onto her for the eighty-billionth time. Good thing Ian isn't here or Jake's life span would have come to an abrupt end, she thought wryly.  
  
Disappointed but perversely glad that she hadn't given in to his embrace (part of the allure was that she was that she played extremely hard to get) he managed to say smoothly above the din of conflicting emotions, "Well then, I guess I'll allow you to go back to your apartment and get some "sleep"." With a conspiratial wink he waved goodbye, knowing that that rumors concerning Pezzini and her "sleep" would be all over the precinct the next morning.  
  
A/N: Sry for the delay, after "Palindrome" my muses simultaneously dropped dead of heart failure. I'm contemplating responding to Jessi's challenge, but I can't decide how to begin it (I've already written the ending). If you have any suggestions please email me, I need help! Thanxs and don't forget to review~ everyone knows reviews are the only thing that can revive a dead muse (that and Vanilla Coke). Oh, and I couldn't have written this chapter with out the use of the Watcher's Journal's transcript of "Conundrum". 


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